176 EDGE OF THE JUNGLE 



thighs until their wings would hardly lift them. 

 They braced their feet, whirred, lifted unevenly, 

 and sank back with a jar. Then turning, they 

 bit off a piece of ballast, and heaving it over the 

 precipice, swung off on an even keel. 



Close examination of some of the craters and 

 volcanic-like cones revealed many species of ants, 

 beetles and roaches searching for bits of food — 

 the scavengers of this small world. But the most 

 interesting were the actual parasites, flies of 

 many colors and sizes, humming past like little 

 planes and zeppelins over this hidden city, ready 

 to drop a bomb in the form of an egg deposited 

 on the refuse heaps or on the ants themselves. 

 The explosion might come slowly, but it would 

 be none the less deadly. Once I detected a hint 

 of the complexity of the glade life — beautiful 

 metallic green flies walking swiftly about on long 

 legs, searching nervously, whose eggs would be 

 deposited near those of other flies, their larvse to 

 feed upon the others — parasites upon para- 

 sites. 



As 1 iiaa resolutely put the doings of the tree- 

 tops away from my consciousness, so now I for- 

 got visitors and parasites, and armed myself for 

 the excavation of this buried metropolis. I 



